The Weight
by Muh Chaos Theory
Summary: Multi chapter one shot. After his revenge, Jack felt no remorse. Just a deep, miserable emptiness. So he wandered, either looking for redemption or peace. Whichever came first.
1. Chapter 1

_**PROLOGUE **_

'Scuse me. You Edgar Ross?"

…

"Do I know you?"

…

"Forgive me for startling you sir but I've got a message for you."

…

"My name's Jack Marston - you knew my father"

…

"In the corner of the Bullhead sat a young cowboy. His Stetson hat covered his face as he sat in a sleeping position. A red bandana hung around his neck but if you looked closely you could see a dark goatee begging to grow on his face. He wore a jacket that was a yellowish beige. It was a sandish color and was very similar to the jacket worn by an old outlaw he looked up to from what felt like a lifetime ago. His memories of the man were near forgotten but he had seen pictures and remembered a few of the memories that were important.

…

"Enjoy your fishing kid... While you still can…"

…

"I've come for you Ross."

…

"Your father killed himself with the life he lived."

"You killed him! I saw you. You sent him out to do your dirty work and then shot him like a dog!"

"And I'll shoot you like one too if you don't leave now!"

"I ain't goin' anywhere old man…"

…

The young cowboy awoke from his dream. He could hear a woman's voice from the center of the room he was in, coming from a bright screen. It was a newscaster on the news channel on the telivision. Apparently Edgar Ross's body still hasn't been found. It's been two months since his murder and the authorities still didn't have the slightest clue of what happened. Ross's family didn't file a missing person's report till a week after he dissapeared while hunting. They won't find him. The river and the local Grimm made sure of that.

Jack looked around at who the fellow passengers were. In one corner was a raven haired girl with a bow on her head that seemed to twitch every now and then. She kept to herself but there was a suspicious air about her he didn't like. Still he doubted she'd be a threat. In another corner were two sisters chatting away loudly. It was a bit annoying. Not too far away from them was a blonde boy who was ready to vomit. Among the prodigies, warriors, athletes, weirdos and rich kids on board he certainly didn't belong. The outlaw's son hoped he wouldn't be on the same team with any of the people here. A team of him just by himself would be very nice.

Four days after Jack Marston's duel with Ross he met a huntsman who reeked of alcohol. He claimed to have met the boy's father years ago and convinced him to become a professional huntsman when he learned the boy was planning on becoming a bounty hunter. Bounty hunters were almost extinct nowadays as the world had become too civilized to need them. Cities and villages would rather relay on the police forces or liscensed huntsmen than deal with some random stranger with a gun. Becoming a huntsman or huntress also came with plenty legal benefits and supposedly the pay was more consistent. To seal the deal the smelly drunk also was friends with the headmaster of Beacon Academy, the most well respected school on the planet and would recomend him since he was homeschooled most his life and never trained at a school.

So now Jack Marston was becoming a huntsman. His parents would have wanted him to become a writer or rancher. So would Uncle and Uncle Arthur. But they were all dead now and he was the only one left. The members of Dutch Van Der Linde's gang had all been dead for years. Whether from infighting, the Pinkertons or rival gangs, he was all that remained. And with Ross gone he was the only one who knew the truth. He contemplated becoming an outlaw after his ma passed away but to do so would be an insult to her memory as well as everyone who were sacrificed so he could live an honest life. So he would become a huntsman to make up for what he did by getting revenge and maybe release him of the guilt he felt despite feeling no remorse nor regret for his actions.

**This is the 3rd time I've tried uploading this fic so if it doesn't work I'll probably give up on making this story. I don't know how often I will update this fic. The website really isn't mobile friendly, Sorry for how short the chapter is I'll try to make the next one longer. 99% of the stuff on this site sucks and is super cringey but I'm going to try to make a good well written story. Jack is an underrated character and while there are a million fics of an edgy morally ambiguos anti hero joining RWBY, I chose Jack because westerns are super cool and I figured he'd have interesting interactions with Weiss, Blake and also a lot of the villains. He also has room to grow as a person so character development will be fun. Please favorite, follow, or/and leave a review**


	2. Chapter 2

_**THE LAST OF THE TRUE, THE DANCE, DON'T BRING YOUR GUNS TO TOWN**_

The Cowboy's son sat by the bar in the saloon. He was in some lawless town in Texas. The saloon was filled with prostitutes and drunks. A little girl played with a trained bear on stage. The boy looked around at the residents. He ordered a glass of chocolate milk and a cheeseburger but was not paying attention to whether or not it had arrived. A man in his thirties walked into the bar, with a string of ears around his neck, black and shriveled up. He walked over to the bar and sat a few seats down from the cowboy's son.

Jack Marston was on a revenge mission. It had been mere months since the Fall of Beacon. He wanted revenge or justice. He wasn't sure if they were the same or one no more. Somebody had to make the White Fang pay, but he was willing to risk his life on getting to be the one to make them pay. The countries of Remnant were not on high alert looking for the faunas terrorists so that left the ugly job empty.

He eyed the Man with the ear necklace warily. He had the look of a cowboy on him. One that was a veteran who knew the land well. He didn't know what race or people the ears on the necklace belonged to but he had heard of slave owners and scalp hunters taking disgusting souvenirs. The Man was too young to have been in the Civil War so he musta been a scalp hunter. and White Fang scalps were worth as much as Apaches once upon a time.

He went to make his way to the Man when a shot rang out and the dancing bear fell to the ground in a puddle of blood. When he looked to the Man it appeared he was in conversation with a huge pale, dark dressed fellow who was bald and had no facial hair. Despite being just a man, this figure looked terrifyingly otherworldly, and judging by the horrified look on the Man's face, he might have been some type of unnatural monster. A demon or a ghost, ready to take his soul. The pale man started pointing at the bar's residents and even pointed at the Outlaw's son. Jack felt a shiver run down his spine for the split second he was in the thing's line of sight.

A faunas down the bar eyed Marston's sign of weakness and began conversing with his friends in a hushed tone. Marston turned to his food which had long since arrived and turned cold. When he looked back his hopeful lead and the pale man were gone. _"damn"_

"Bartender. The check please" He called out. The bar tender returned and he asked some questions about if any new gangs or suspicious faunas arrived into town. He gave him a dollar or two as a tip. The bartender knew nothing.

Jack picked up a newspaper. **Gunfighter Jack Wilson and wealthy rancher shot in small town Wyoming Shootout! **was the headline. A few weeks before, Robert Ford, the man who murdered Jesse James was shot down as well. Even in the modern 'civilized' world, the West was stilly dying.

"Barkeep." He paused. "fetch me a shot of whiskey."

"What kind?"

"Whichever's the strongest."

A dirty, dusty man laughed loudly. He was standing next to Marston. It was the faunas who eyed him earlier. Behind him was two part animal part human thugs. The faunas who laughed at him looked to be part bear. The other ones was part snake and one had horse ears or somethin'.

"Whatchu laughin' at?"

"You. boy."

"How come."

"Cause I wanna. I heard you was looking for some of the Fang. I can help ya if you wanna go outside." His southern accent was obviously fake. This man was not from America. He then splashed Jack's shirt with the shot of whiskey he ordered yet had not gotten the chance go drink.

"Sure. Lets."

The four figures walked out. The Two thugs walked out first, then Jack and then the leader. The moment jack opened the door and the sunlight blinded him the two thugs took out their pistols and fired at him. He jerked of the way when he saw their hands move and fired four shots in front of himself and one behind. Jack fell to his knees. He'd been shot in the back of his left arm. The two in front of him were lying on their backs. One was quiet and the other was loudly choking on blood. The one who fired from behind was lying dead face first into the wooden panels. The puddle of blood seemed to be centered around where his head lay so he wasn't likely to get up any time soon.

"Damnit. I made every mistake possible in there. Left my self wide open whole time. Only luck I got by right now." He muttered cursings to himself for being stupid and accomplishing nothing. He did so the whole time until the town's sherrifs and a doctor came by to drag him away. They took the bullet out before kicking him outta town. They had no grounds to arrest him for self defense and the girl with the pet bear had gone missing so the whole town was in uproar looking for her. He'd offered to help the search but they didn't want any so he went on his way.

_**This story isn't completely dead yet lol. The timeline is gonna jump back and forth and I plan on making several Western and historical Wild West refrences like I did this chapter throughout the story. Try to guess what all got refrenced this time I did make it a bit obvious but Im leaving some hints. Book, song, movie/book, history. Please leave a review and follow/favorite if you want more. **_


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